


say yes?

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [147]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Marriage Proposal, they're so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23144395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: Newt takes Hermann out for a nice dinner date.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [147]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Kudos: 30





	say yes?

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "So weddings are everywhere I look these days and of course it's making me think about my favorite fictional couple and how they are absolutely completely married Uprising whom lol I hope you will like this prompt! “Of course it’s a yes,” said Hermann. “And don’t worry about your knee. I don’t want your knee. I want your love and support.”"

“Let’s go out to dinner,” Newton says. “Whatever you want—I’ll dress fancy, even; wear that suit the PPDC made me get for the _‘Yay We’re Not Dead’_ gala. It’ll be fun!”

It’s two in the morning.

“Nng,” Hermann groans, rolling over and glaring balefully at the biologist, though he knows the other won’t be able to see it in the dark. “Newton,” he says, quietly, “I love you very much, but please, for the love of _God,_ shut up and go to sleep.”

Newton hums; shifts further beneath the blanket. “We both know you weren’t asleep,” he says. “You snore when you sleep.”

“I do _not,_ ” Hermann protests, “and if I _wasn’t_ sleeping, it’s only because you won’t stop _talking._ ”

That’s something he’s learnt about Newton—well, not that he didn’t already _know_ it, but it’s been driven home since they moved in together and started—well; _this._ Them—; the man is rarely ever quiet.

It’s his brain; Hermann’s sure of that; having been in it himself, it’s the most logical explanation; that Newton’s brain simply _doesn’t_ slow down; doesn’t trail off into rest like most others’ do. It may have helped win the war, but for Newton, Hermann suspects, it makes every day a bit of a living hell.

“Anyway,” Newton says, “d'you want to? Go to dinner, I mean. Tomorrow.”

Hermann considers it. “Oh, alright,” he says, finally. “It _has_ been a while since we’ve eaten out for dinner. It’d be…nice, honestly.” He pauses, for a moment, and then adds, “Be glad I love you enough to not throttle you for asking at _two_ in the _morning._ ”

Newton huffs. “Love you to, Herms,” he drawls.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Hermann grunts, and shifts the pillow is in a more comfortable position.

Newton does, thank God; and, after a few moments of silence, Hermann drifts off into sleep himself.

“Dinner,” Newton announces, the next morning, after they wake up. They’re sitting at the table, eating breakfast. Neither of them are fantastic cooks, but they’re passable enough, and they’ve been eating shatterdome food for a long time. “Tonight.”

Hermann hums at him. “You said.”

“Yeah,” Newton nods, “so, how do you feel about the place we went to after the war? The, uh, the one with the embroidered tablecloths that we ducked into to get away from the press that one time?”

Hermann does; if only because they’d been hounded by reporters for days at that point, and it had been their first respite from them. It’d been nice, though, genuinely. “I do,” he says, “but I don’t know why you'd—well, why you’d want to go _back._ ”

“Eh.” Newton shrugs. “Nostalgia?”

It’s more of a question than a statement, and it makes a smile rise, a bit, at Hermann’s lips. “Alright,” he says, “that’d be—that’d be wonderful, actually.”

That makes Newton light up. “Sweet,” he says. “So, when should I pick you up, Doctor Gottlieb?”

The last bit is thrown almost flirtatiously; Newton’s looking through his lashes, a bit, which would be much more effective if he weren’t also currently eating pancakes with his hands, but Hermann still finds the sight endearing. “As if you don’t have my schedule memorised,” he scoffs; but there’s no bite to it.

“…so, I’ll get you at eight, then?”

“I knew it,” Hermann says, “you were _lying_ last time.”

“Hey!” Newton protests. “Look, man—”

The rest of breakfast devolves into good-natured bickering; they settle on quarter to eight in the end, and Hermann, remembering Newton’s words from the ridiculously early morning conversation, hurries to add that there’s no need for it to be formal-wear—he doesn’t, contrary to public opinion, actually _enjoy_ dressing up.

Newton’s waiting in front of his office door at quarter til, sharp, that evening; an even that would have been far more unnerving if Hermann hadn’t been expecting it.

He’s wearing casual, everyday clothing; looks, in every way, the man Hermann fell in love with, years ago; hair wild, eyes wide and glinting. “Shall we?” he asks, extending an arm, and, _oh, hell, why no,_ Hermann takes it.

They ride in comfortable silence to the restaurant; are escorted to their table by a waiter. The embroidered tablecloths are still a feature, which Hermann appreciates; they’re very nice, and, once it arrives, so is the food.

They eat and chat amicably; nothing very deep; mostly about their respective days, students, odd encounters, so on and so forth.

Boring, perhaps, in some ways; _banal;_ but it’s what Hermann needs, in a way. He’s had enough excitement to last him a few lifetimes—he’s more than happy to sit here, across from the man he loves, and talk about the minutiae of non-carbon life-forms.

Once they finish dessert, and after Newton pays the bill—"You payed last time,“ he reminds Hermann, and Hermann relents, because that is, indeed, _true_ —, they make the walk back to the bus-stop.

Given the late hour, there aren’t many people on the bus, but that’s fine; Hermann doesn’t mind the silence, sitting here, with Newton’s hand holding his loosely.

When they get back inside, Hermann fights with his scarf for a few moments—it’s warm, but the thing is a bloody _menace_ —, and then hangs it up.

When he turns around, Newton’s halfway to kneeling on one leg, fumbling his pockets for—something, a box, it turns out, and his expression is more than slightly anxious. ” _Newton?_ “ Hermann hisses, but more out of _shock_ than any true upset.

That makes the other stumble, falling, and Hermann dives forward, on instinct, to catch him, and they both end up half-laying on the floor. "Owwww,” Newton moans.

“ _Are you asking me to marry you?_ ” Hermann asks; half-hysterical; giddy with joy; gripping Newton’s lapels. “God, Newton, you—”

“I was going to get down on one knee, yeah,” Newton says, “but, uh, you. Can probably see that that didn’t really. Happen. Um—” he pulls one hand, the one that was fumbling through his pockets a moment later, from where Hermann’s laying on it. “Is that a…a yes?” he asks, offering the box to Hermann.

“Of _course_ it’s a yes,” Hermann says. “And don’t worry about your knee. I don’t want your _knee._ I want your love and support.”

The declaration leaves the both of them silent for a moment; it’s _true,_ of course, but he’s never really said it in so many words.

Then Newton laughs; breaking the tension; and the two of them untangle themselves and help each other up. “Can I put it on?” Hermann asks, after a few beats, a hand still on Newton’s lapel.

Newton grins at him and pops the box open; slides the ring onto Hermann’s finger and kisses him. “You’ve made me the happiest man,” he says, and Hermann shushes him, but he’s grinning, and he cups Newton’s cheek with his hand, the simple band glinting slightly under the overhead light, and draws Newton in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
